


Lean In When I Suffer | A Drabble Collection

by undomiel (small_flower)



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Slow Burn, slow ish at least, tw for y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22895800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/small_flower/pseuds/undomiel
Summary: A series of drabbles telling the story of how the colony of Ithilien -- and the relationship of Gimli and Legolas -- came to be.
Relationships: Gimli (Son of Glóin)/Legolas Greenleaf
Comments: 10
Kudos: 56





	1. The Wedding of the King / Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is kind of like an interest check to see if anyone would be interested to see this concept as a fully-fledged fic. Please do comment and let me know if you would be interested to read that! It'll be pretty much based off these drabbles with a bit more fleshing out. 
> 
> Enjoy the story!

At Legolas’ and Gimli’s frantic recommendations, the Elves and Dwarves stand apart from each other on the aisle that Arwen walks down. 

Legolas had never regretted a decision more.

He stares at Gimli, clad in bejewelled robes of dwarf-make, looking like a lord of old. Beside him, his kin is similarly dressed, but Gimli’s hair catches the bright morning sun in a way that fascinates Legolas the most. His eyes glisten the brightest when he watches Aragorn and Arwen say their vows to each other. 

Thranduil sniffs and tosses his nose in the air, making a crude comment of the style, or the lack thereof, of dwarf fashion. “It is as though they wear their mines on their body. It wouldn’t hurt to be subtle.” 

“ _Ada!_ ” Legolas hisses under his breath, embarrassed by his father’s pride. “They take it as a compliment.” 

He wishes he were standing next to Gimli. A moment like this ought to be shared with a friend.

-

“They make a scene of it, these Elvish ceremonies,” Glóin grumbles as they watch Aragorn and Arwen exchange their long-winded vows. He didn't mind Men weddings or Elf weddings much, but having to sit through _both_ ceremonies under the sweltering summer sun was unbearable for the elderly dwarf, who much preferred cool and shaded caves in his age.

“ _Adad!_ It is only because you do not understand their language,” Gimli chuckles. His attention had shifted from the murmur of Elvish oaths to Legolas, standing opposite the Dwarves with his kin. His robe was a soft cream colour, and threads of shimmering white made him appear as if he was shimmering. He looked lightweight and rather pretty. 

“You act as though you know everything about Elves, Gimli,” his father snorts. 

“Did you know that Elves are not truly wed until they take matters to the bedroom, father?”

The shade of red on Glóin’s face matched that of Gimli’s beard. Not another noise of complaint came from him throughout the whole ceremony. 

-

Legolas and Gimli sit at a well-hidden corner of the mead hall as Aragorn and Arwen are toasted for their union. Away from the spotlight, they share an ale and quiet words. 

Aragorn and Arwen are so in love, Legolas thinks. Seated across from the dwarf, he wonders if he will, one day, find this love as well.


	2. Love Nonetheless

“It does not matter if it is a man or woman, Gimli, but I would see you wed before I pass!”

“Matters at the Glittering Caves must take precedence, Uncle Balin. I simply do not have the time for courtship.” 

“But an eye for someone special, at least?”

Gimli is silent for a long while. “A face comes to mind. But his name is my own to keep.” 

-

“Elf-men must only love elf-women, Legolas. Our kind are already so few and far in between. To do otherwise is to be foolish. If you cannot understand this, then I will have you leave Eryn Lasgalen.” 

“But  _ ada! _ I am not the only one who feels this way. We have many Elves in our realm who love differently. It is love nonetheless, is it not?” 

The Elven king tossed his head in the air, his eyes steely. “It is not to me. If you insist on your little…  _ endeavours _ , then you are no longer my son.” 

-

Elves could not feel cold, but Legolas feels chilled to the bone the further he staggers from Mirkwood. It has been days since he last had any food (the lembas that were hastily provided for him in secret lasted less than half the journey, even with stringent rationing) and he couldn’t muster any strength in him to hunt. 

He would have been satisfied to spend the rest of his days wandering around in the forests of Fangorn, cursing his father’s name to the ground, but his legs spurred him to go just a little further south... to Aglarond. Somehow, he felt that he would find a home there. 


	3. Newfound Peace

Gimli’s bed is soft. Buried underneath the covers, Legolas has never felt so warm. 

He sleeps with a newfound peace in his heart.

-

When Gimli returned from a hard day at court, he forgot for a moment that he had a guest in his room, and his hand flew to the dagger he kept in his pocket. Then his mind registered that Legolas was staying with him for a while, for as long as his father had to take to sort himself out.

It was ridiculous, Gimli thought, all the regulations Elves had on love. To dwarves one thing was simple: love was love, and no one ought to judge whether a man loves a woman, or another man, or no one at all. It wasn’t as though one could tell the difference from a distance anyway. 

Legolas hadn’t moved since Gimli left him in his room. His lips were parted slightly as he breathed, and a soft, rosy colour had returned to the pale elf’s cheeks. The courteous thing to do, as a gracious host, was to retire to the couch for the night. But a king’s bed has room for two, and Legolas just looked so  _ warm _ in bed.

One night wouldn’t matter, Gimli thought to himself. It would be a few hours and no more before he had to wake up for his duties anyway. As long as he kept to himself and didn’t disturb the sleeping elf.

-

In the middle of the night Legolas wakes, a little surprised to see Gimli next to him, his head resting on his chest, his red hair fanned out beneath him. Legolas doesn’t move, but lifts his hand to ever so gently caress his face, his fingertips barely dancing on the skin. Gently, he tugs the covers up to keep him warm, and when he doesn’t stir, he secretly presses a kiss to his brow.

Legolas doesn’t know that Gimli slept well that night, for the first time in the past few years. 


	4. My People

“You have done much work with these caves, _mellon-nin_ ,” Legolas says with wonder as they take a walk on a less-populated path. The glowing stones light the path ahead, casting a purple glow upon the two.

“Has it been easy, keeping a colony of your own?” 

“Hardly,” Gimli grumbles, but a fond smile tugs on his lips nonetheless. “There are many affairs of trade and power to wrestle with -- it is a wonder that I found the time to take a walk with you at all, master elf!” His tone is filled with a playful accusation, and Legolas’ silvery laugh echoes down the halls. “But my people are good people,” he says, pride in his eyes. “They will flourish here, I’m sure of it. Seeing them makes it all worth the trouble.” 

“I worry for my people, Gimli,” Legolas says with sorrow. “ _Ada_ is angry. Very angry. He may soon purge the people who are… well, like me. He will forbid them to sail as an elf of Mirkwood. I may be safe here, and that is my fortune, but what of them?” 

“There is time for them,” Gimli assures him, holding his hands into his own. “And you will find a way. Your father is shallow, but there are others out there who have a bigger heart, and a bigger love for those who are different. You are one of them.” 

“I have a question for you, master elf. Is there anybody back home who… who catches your eye?” 

“Nay, not back at home. But I’ve always known that I was different than most of my kin, without needing a lover to truly see for myself. It pains me, Gimli. I want to love. Must it be so hard for me?”

“Love will always be hard when it is different, Legolas, but do not fear it! That is a fact that I, too, will have to face someday, if fortune lies in my favour.” 

Gimli walks away before Legolas has a chance to question what he meant. 

-

“I know it! I know what I must do, Gimli.” 

Legolas greets him with exhilaration when he returns to his room. Gimli’s brows perk up in interest. “And what would that be, elf?”

“I will gather them. The outcasts. The _different_ people. The people my father would rather turn away in the name of pride. I will bring them to Ithilien, and there I will raise a great colony for them. We will restore the woods there, and when all is done, I will have them sail with my leave, that they may be reunited with their kin at Sea.” 

Gimli listens to his plans for the rest of the night. He does not mention how difficult it would be for Legolas. He does not point out the parts in his plans that would be impossible, at best. He does not snort or sneer when Legolas showed that he had no understanding of raising a colony from the ground. When he finally finishes, breathless, Gimli merely smiles, and places a hand on his thigh.

“Send for me if you need me, dear friend,” he urges gently. 


	5. The Muster of the Elves

Legolas musters the people in secret, for fear of them being discovered by the court of his father -- those who shared the same cruel mindset of King Thranduil, those who would rather see a crown prince banished for the most trivial of reasons. Already he felt the need to protect these Elves,  _ his people,  _ for their own sake, and for the sake of love. 

It takes months, but at last, the people had been gathered, living in a few houses on the outskirts of the woods. Hope was beginning to show its light, and people began braiding their lovers’ hair with the ceremonial marriage braids, no longer in fear of being discovered. 

-

In the months that Legolas is gone, with nothing but sparse letters to keep him company, Gimli finds himself irritable, unable to focus, and missing the elf every minute he was gone. He wondered often of Legolas and his expedition, yet he never sent for the dwarves or asked anything of Aglarond. 

Though he tried hard to control his temper, at times his hawk-eyed family would catch signs of it.

“Your father often acted thus, when he was separated from your mother for a long time -- his One.”

“Uncle Óin, you jest. It is simply impossible to attribute emotions to a  _ One _ , when one doesn’t  _ have  _ a One!” 

Óin’s eyes glittered as he spoke. “Perhaps you are right, Gimli. It is an old wives’ tale, ‘tis all.” 

-

“My lord Legolas!” 

A young elf, the scout of his group, approached him, his eyes wide and fearful. 

“I fear we have been discovered by the court of Mirkwood. King Thranduil has sent the guard of the Malledhrim against us. We’ll be dead by morning!” 

“Fear not, boy. Go to the people, and tell them that they must gather their provisions and their horses. We’ll leave in an hour.” 

So it has come to this, Legolas thought to himself. The elven king would  _ murder _ his people -- his own son -- before repenting his traditional ways. Fury fueled the elf as he prepared his pack and strung his bow once more, before hopping atop his steed Arod. There he addressed his people. 

“My friends! All your life you have lived in fear, fear of loving and being loved, fear of being discovered by my father the king! Tonight, you will know no fear! We ride out of Mirkwood tonight, and into a new life! Have courage, elves of Ithilien, my people! The end is in sight.”

With that, they fled south on their horses, and surrounding them were the guards of the Malledhrim, hounding them, flushing them beyond the borders of their once-home. Javelins were flung their way, and arrows rained around them, as Legolas led the charge of the people out of Mirkwood. 

When at last they had reached the edge of the Brown Lands they turned to tend to their wounded, and the Malledhrim warriors, having fulfilled their duty to the king, bade their kin goodbye at the edge of the woods. 

“Forgive us, my prince,” the captain said to Legolas with sorrow in his eyes. “I did not wish to see this day.”

“We will meet again, in the other life,” Legolas assured him. “Thank you for your service to my father, captain.” 

“Take care of them well, my lord! My sister, she goes with you.” 

The rest of their journey was slower than that first night, at last, the exodus had reached their new home. Immediately, Legolas gathered the woodworkers, the builders and the healers, and they began to restore the lands of Ithilien. 


	6. Fiddle Made of Starlight

Two years after the night Legolas left Gimli in Aglarond, he opened his lands to visitors from all over Middle Earth, in a banquet celebrating the birth of his new colony. Among the invited guests were King Aragorn and Queen Arwen (and their young son Eldarion), the hobbit Samwise Gamgee and his family, and representatives from the Glittering Caves. 

“The dwarves will be late, my lord, they will arrive tonight,” a scout had told him as he shared a brisk lunch with his old friends. Legolas had frowned, but he did not reveal, in front of his guests, that he had been looking forward to seeing Gimli the most. 

The tailors had prepared a beautiful robe for Legolas, coloured like the waters of the Great Sea, with scavenged stones that glinted under the moonlight. He wore it, and upon his head sat a thinly-crafted crown of woodland jewels and branches, a gift from the forests of Ithilien. It was nowhere near as valuable as his old tiara from Mirkwood, wrought of fine elven-steel, but he found himself preferring the former, for it was his own, not to be taken away from him. 

For the early parts of the night, Legolas spent dancing with his people and his guests. He taught Elanor and Eldarion the elven quickstep, not minding that they crushed his toes often, and laughed when they were dizzy from the effort. After much nagging, Arwen agreed to dance with him on behalf of Aragorn, and they shared a sweet waltz until the door was flung open, revealing the arrival of the dwarves. 

“Legolas!” 

“Gimli!” Legolas broke free from Arwen’s hold and ran for his friend. “Gimli!” He fell on his knees and embraced the dwarf, nearly knocking him over with the effort. 

“I did it, Gimli,” he whispered, his eyes shining. “I’m free.” 

“Elf.”

“Hm?” 

Gimli pressed his lips onto Legolas’ quickly before drawing away. Legolas scoffed and pulled him close for another, caressing his face in a hand, the other roaming over his bejewelled robes, feeling him, holding him close, kissing him with such desperation that he refused to let go, long after his lungs were devoid of air, he hung onto the dwarf, gasping, weeping, burying himself in his embrace. 

The world was muffled with a veil, and the faint sounds of cheering were far and foreign to Legolas. He stared at Gimli, his lips still tingling from the kiss, and his heart was a fiddle made of starlight. 

“You knew,” he whispered, crying as he laughed, his hand cupping Gimli’s cheeks. “How?”

“I have known since the night we shared a bed, my elf.” Gimli put his own hand over Legolas’, stroking it tenderly with his thumb. “You kissed me. Did you think I would not notice?” His voice was gentle and mirthful, his eyes like molten gold. 

“You didn’t say --”

“There was nothing to be said.” He leaned into the elf, looking up at him with affection in his eyes. “It is as simple as that.” 

“Now, my dear Legolas, there is nothing more I would want than to lie here with you for the rest of our lives, but it appears as though you have guests to entertain!” 

Legolas scrubbed the tears from his eyes and hopped up, extending a hand to Gimli. “Shall we dance, my dear?” 

He called for the musicians to play a sweet tune, and led Gimli to the centre of the floor as the rest of the partygoers backed away, leaving no one but the two of them in the centre of the circle.

“I have not danced since…”

“ _ Gimli, meleth-nin. _ Let me lead,” Legolas murmured in his ear. 

Gimli wrapped his arms over Legolas’ shoulders, and Legolas held Gimli’s hips gently. Slowly they swayed at first, their foreheads touching. And as the music swelled Legolas swung Gimli out and back to him again, finding himself unable to keep away from the dwarf, even when they were together. He pressed close to Gimli, shivering when he squeezed his shoulders as they moved to the music. 

When at last the band stopped playing and everyone burst into applause, Legolas held onto Gimli still, kissing his hair, his cheek, his neck, until the dwarf swatted him away. 

Legolas didn’t speak to Aragorn for the rest of the night, but they exchanged glances once, and Legolas knew that the king was happy for his friends. 

He could swear he heard his friend tell Arwen, “I told you so!”, but those were matters he would not pursue. 


	7. The Elven Way

“You know that I return to Aglarond tomorrow, yes?” 

“Aye.” Legolas lay on Gimli’s chest, their legs intertwined underneath the covers. “When will I see you next, _meleth-nin_?”

“It is hard to say,” Gimli sighed. “I have matters to attend to, as do you. But I love you,” he added, kissing Legolas’ brow softly, his thumbs rubbing circles on his back. 

“ _Gimli-nin_ , if it is not too much, I have a small request to make of you, before you leave.” 

“Anything you desire, dearest.” 

Legolas propped himself up, leaning over to kiss him. “I want to marry you.”

“Marry?” Gimli chuckled. “Love, there will be no time to arrange a wedding --”

“The _Elven_ way, dear.” 

“Oh.” Though it was dark in the room, Legolas could see Gimli’s face flush bright red. “Now? Tonight?”

“If you desire.”

“Do you?” 

“I don’t know,” Legolas admitted, suddenly shy. Absentmindedly he twirled a strand of Gimli’s hair in his fingers. “I have not… done it before. Have you?” 

“Aye, with a lover in my youth. But that was a long time ago. Never with an elf, if it is any comfort.”

“To be honest, I feel... clueless.” Legolas looked away, but Gimli cupped his cheek, meeting his eye. His gaze was gentle. 

“As do I, but fate has led us here already, has it not? Whatever may befall, we can discover it together.” 

They started with a kiss. When morning broke, Legolas Greenleaf and Gimli son of Glóin were officially wedded the Elven way, and it was in this way that their souls were bonded to each other for the remainder of their lives. 


	8. The Wager / Epilogue

“My lord Legolas! Lord Gimli has arrived from Aglarond!” 

A young elf burst into the court, disrupting a meeting of little interest to anyone in the room. Legolas stood up right away, his breath quickening. 

“Gentlemen, I sincerely apologise, but I must --”

“Go ahead, sir.” His second, Celebhir, said with a knowing glance. “We’ll finish up here and join you.” 

Swiftly Legolas left the room, and as soon as the doors closed the elves began to retrieve their wallets from their pockets.

“I wager once or twice, and then they sleep for the rest of the night.”

“Then you are mad for thinking so, and for putting money on that thought! They have not seen each other for  _ weeks _ !  _ I _ wager they do it until morning breaks.” 

-

“Now that we are alone,  _ meleth-nin _ …” 

“Your bed has never looked so tempting, Legolas.” 

“Shall we?” 

-

“You are all fools. Don’t you know how exhausting it is to lead a kingdom?” Celebhir plucked five gold coins from his purse and placed them upon the table. “They sleep through the night, wake up at around luncheon, and  _ then _ they do it. Mark my words.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Ithilien being a primarily lgbt+ community? I like to see it
> 
> Like I said, please do let me know if you would be interested to see this concept as a full fic!
> 
> If you're interested in supporting my work, click [here](buymeacoff.ee/i5IDq2F)! It would be much appreciated <3


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